The Game - Round Two: Logic and Physical Dexterity, Mission and Submissions Options

[Department_of_My...]

Welcome to round two of the Game,
Logic and Physical Dexterity!

Stoats – The first one of you to solve the riddle below wins a $20 gift card from Whimsic Alley!

Ferrets – Solve the riddle below to receive your writing mission for this round.

Ferret Prizes for this round are the chocolate chess set and potions bottles. First Place winner gets first choice.

Riddle Solving and Writing are open from June 18th to 28th, voting is open from the 29th until July 1st.



Five people visit Hogsmeade.
They all have a different drink.
Each drink is served by different member of the bar staff.



Someone was served pumpkin juice by Carmen.
Fudge was not served his rum by Marcella.
Hagrid was served by Tom.
The person who drinks pumpkin juice wasn't served second.
The fire whiskey drinker was served last.
Marcella served the fourth person in line but they didn't order a gillywater.
Neither Carmen nor Hans served McGonagall who was third in line at the bar.
Hermione wasn't first in line.


Servers; Tom, Carmen, Hans, Marcella, Andy
Drinks; Pumpkin juice, Rum, Butterbeer, Gillywater, Fire whiskey
Drinkers; Hagrid, Harry, McGonagall, Fudge, Hermione


So....




Think you know the answer?
Then send a PM to Department_of_Mysteries .
If you answer wrong, you may try again.

Since not everybody is a Hermione, regular general hints will be posted in the discussion topic. But remember, the fastest Stoat wins the prize, and the faster Ferret has more time to write ...

Good Luck!
(And keep out of that corridor on the fourth floor!)

[zymurgy]

The Only Dull Flying Class Ever

It was a miserable day, rainy and cold, thunder rumbling ominously. Normally the weather didn’t matter much at Hogwarts because the classrooms were Charmed to be at a pleasant and constant temperature. However, the rain was responsible for their first indoor flying class.

Instead of canceling, as most of them had expected her too, Madam Hooch had them crowded into a classroom and was giving a lecture on Quidditch theory.

Normally, she had no trouble holding the attention of the students, but normally there was the threat of falling several dozen feet to ensure that everybody listened quite carefully.

Now, however, the class was restless and irritated – most had counted on a free hour and were disgruntled that the class had not been cancelled. Hooch was nowhere near as imposing on the ground as she was in the air and her lecture lacked the vigor of her usual classes.

A Quaffle was hovering half-heartedly in the corner and most of the students were slouched in their chairs determined not to pay the slightest attention. Their attitude was so negative, that Hooch had already been forced to confiscate several items they had been fidgeting with – a hairbrush, several feathers and a remembral lay on her desk, and were the focus of longing gazes by their several owners.

“And so that is why,” Madam Hooch was saying, “a Bludger’s under its own magical power creates the greatest the impact directly after a change in direction, whereas if they’ve been propelled by outside forces, that is, by the Beater’s bat, they lose their own power for a moment and behave as an unspelled ball would, that is, they decelerate as they move along.

“Therefore, it’s obvious that it makes more sense to use the Beater’s solely for defense of your own team, rather than for offensive action,” she broke off to glance at a student with his hand up. “Did you have something to add, Mr. Weasley?”

“Isn’t it true, though,” said Ron, tentatively , “that the path of a Bludger is not completely random, but that it prefers to change direction in order to hit the nearest player? So, wouldn’t it be logical that a Beater shoot a Bludger towards, but not directly at, an opposing team member, so that it could change direction on its own, and hit the opposing team member with the greatest impact?”

“Five points to Gryffindor,” said Madam Hooch cheerily. “That was precisely what I was about to say. It is a common misconception that Beaters ought to shoot the Bludger directly at those they wish to hit. The best strategy for a Beater would actually be to shoot wide on purpose to allow for the most injuriousshot.”

“So you’re saying that the whole game isn’t logical,” said Hermione, out of turn. “In order to make the best hit, you’re saying they ought to miss.”

“It is a bit of a paradox,” admitted Madam Hooch. “Of course, a Beater can also get very far actually hitting his target since any hit with a Bludger is usually enough to put your opponent in the hospital wing. We’re talking about a theoretical perfect strategy, here. Yes, Mr. Malfoy?”

“Theory doesn’t have much bearing on the actual game,” Draco said with a sneer. “In the air, there isn’t time to analyze shots to ensure maximum damage.”

Hooch’s eyes glittered. “Theory, Mr. Malfoy, is what keeps the game in the air. Without the theory involved in the invention of the Snitch, for example, Quidditch would have died out centuries ago due to the near extinction of the golden Snidget. Had nobody studied theory, Bludgers would amble about at the speed of a Firefly21 because nobody would have bothered to create the spells that ensure for maximum efficiency of flight path. Without – ”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t necessary to develop theory for the game,” interrupted Draco. “Thought it isn’t, now, as it’s already been developed into a game stable enough to have lasted several centuries. All I said was that theory was unnecessary for the players. It’s all very nice to analyze a game after the fact and say that, for instance, Vladimir Malkov could have scored that last Quaffle if Brutus Glatch had deflected the Bludger properly instead of towards the hoop Malkov was heading for, causing it to double back and – ”

“Mr. Malfoy,” snapped Hooch. “I am sure the rest of the class is quite capable of reading Quiditch Weekly on their own. When I want an essay on current games I’ll ask for it – and his name isn’t Malkov it’s Malcovitch.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley?”

“It’s true that you probably couldn’t calculate during an actual game,” said Ron, his _expression clearly showing how much it galled him to agree in any measure with anything Malfoy had said. “But doesn’t every team’s captain have a particular strategy and method to ensure his team performs the best?”

“Ask Potter,” interrupted Malfoy nastily. “He’s the only one here on an actual team. The rest of us don’t get the rules bent for us, you know.”

“Strategy and theory are to be studied during a player’s training,” said Hooch, ignoring Malfoy’s last jibe. “If a player trains to take these things into account, it becomes second nature to put it in practice during an actual game. They develop an ability to strategize, if you’ll pardon the pun, on the fly.”

“I’d rather fly than just sit here nattering on about theory,” muttered Seamus under his breath.

“You will fly, Mr. Finnegan, at some point when there isn’t the threat of lightning,” snapped Hooch. “You should realize that my flying class has a greater amount of practical lessons than any other in Britain. In some schools, you would be required to pass written exams on the things I am telling you now, and if you lot don’t settle down and pay attention I might decide to do that.”

Hermione perked up slightly at the prospect of a written exam, though the rest of the class gave a collective groan.

Hooch gathered her temper with a visible effort. “Quidditch is capable of being far more than a mere physical game. The greatest teams today are those in Bulgaria and Uzbekistan, both of which have spent considerable time and research in the area of Aeromagic. In the hands of a proper captain, as every one of you has the potential to be if you put your mind to it instead of Magazines under the desk, Ms. Patil, it becomes a game of logic as well. The best Quidditch is played not only with brawn, but with brains.

“The problem the English team has today is an unwillingness to delve into the realm of theory in order to straighten out their abysmal game plan. Such lassitude and willful ignorance on the subject will not be tolerated in my class,” she went on. “By next week’s lesson, I want everybody to write our a game-plan for a theoretical game in which each player’s moves are designed and planned to their greatest potential. Dismissed.”

The students stumbled out in a whirl of activity, grumbling to each other about having written homework for flying class. They were too interested in the prospect of lunch, however, to argue with Madam Hooch, especially considering how out-of-sorts she seemed to be.

“Somebody ought to put something horrid in her broom shed,” Dean was saying at lunch. “Has anybody got an idea?”

Seamus nodded, pulling a dungbomb just far enough from his pocket to show his friends. “Will this do?”

“It’s not nearly horrid enough,” said Dean. “You need something she can’t get read of easy. All they do is cast Air Cleaning Charms when we set those off. How about your spider? Don’t you know that kid that has a really hairy one?”

“I do not,” denied Seamus hotly, although Harry was sure he saw a leg of Justin’s tarantula peaking out of the top of Seamus’ bag. “And you’re not going to use that spider for any stupid prank – honestly, Justin had enough trouble to get the school to let him keep it at all – I can’t go sticking it in some professor’s desk.”

“Doesn’t matter, then,” said Dean carelessly, serving himself a large helping of fried pumpkin. “But somebody ought to do something. Honestly, whoever heard of a flying professor assigning homework?”

“She said other schools did it,” Harry put in. “And it almost makes sense…”

“She made that up,” insisted Dean. “We ought to all write our essays in a cipher, out of protest.”

“You boys will lose every last House Point we have,” snapped Hermione, pushing passed them to get to her seat. “And even if you don’t care about Gryffindor, you ought to realize you’d get a detention for that sort of thing and it’d stay on your record forever!”

“A nightmare, honestly,” said Ron under his breath, shooting her a dirty look. “But there’s got to be a logical way to deal with this,” he said louder. “After all – ”

“Logic is what caused the problem in the first place,” Harry pointed out. “Besides, she didn’t even give a minimum length – we can get away with writing very little.”

“Chances are,” said Dean, “she’ll forget she even asks us to do it. Let’s not worry about it.” He stabbed at his food in such irritation his elbow knocked several silver serving spoons to the floor.

“I hope she forgets,” said Neville, leaning over to pick up the flatware, “I’ll never remember to bring it to class even if I do write it.”

“You can’t remember anything,” chided Seamus. “You even forgot to ask Hooch to give your remembral back.”

“She won’t forget,” insisted Hermione. “Sshe was really annoyed with your attitude and if you don’t do it she’ll probably take more points than we can gain back in a month.”

“Well, for once she wasn’t annoyed with your terrible flying,” Dean shot back. “And you can probably win anything we lose back in a heartbeat, anyway.” He mockingly rolled back his top lip to show his upper teeth and waved a hand in the air as high as he could reach. “I know the answer,” he sang out, imitating Hermione’s voice nearly perfectly, “Pick me, Professor! Pick meeeeeeee!”

Hermione slammed her silver goblet to the table and left at a run, upset enough to forget her bag.

“You made her cry,” Neville accused, before gathering up his own bag and hers and hurrying after her.

“Very dangerous, making girls cry,” said Dean sarcastically. “Honestly, she’ll actually do it and then make us all look bad. She’s such a… ” he trailed off, a far away look coming over his face.

“Oh no,” said Seamus. “The last time he got that look he decided it was a great idea to enchant a mud puddle to sing …”

“Well it worked didn’t it?” demanded Dean, still not looking completely back to earth.

“It worked all right,” moaned Seamus. “But it also tried to eat McGonnagal’s shoes, splattered the Entrance Hall, and nearly drowned Neville…”

“I have an idea,” said Dean. “We all know miss Frizz Head will probably write sixteen feet and hand it in in triplicate, right?”

“Right,” agreed Ron. “but what are you –”

“Hooch wants a theoretical perfect game, right?” Dean went on. “And none of wants to write a whole one, right?”

“Yes it is,” said Dean. “She’s a genius, that means her work is public property. Somebody has to steal her essay long enough to make a copy. Then, each one of us will paraphrase a different couple of paragraphs and we’ll all have something to turn in.”

“This is … a very bad idea,” said Ron. “She’ll know right away, and she’d tell and we’d all get worse detention for copying that we would’ve for not turning in anything…”

“I’m not finished yet!” said Dean. “The really genius part of the plan is that then, once we all have a bit of it and make it look like we did it, we go to her, apologize for being mean, and ask if she can … look it over and give us a hand before we turn it in… ”

“He’s going to get us all killed,” said Seamus, putting his head in his hands. “She’ll stab us with those crazy silver hairpins, or beat us to death with a retainer…”

“Seamus, you’re being a prat,” said Dean. “You’re looking at a genuine, perfect, foolproof, logical plan!”

“It’s not logical,” said Harry. “It’s ridiculous.”

“Bet you a sickle it works,” challenged Dean, tossing one of the silver coins on the table.

“You’re on,” said Harry gamely. “But you’ll have to find somebody else to divide her work with, because I’m doing my own.”

“No matter what we’ll do we’ll do better than Malfoy,” said Ron, solely to draw attention away from the fact that he wouldn’t be able to join in the betting. “He won’t write anything, the lazy wart, just to be difficult.”

“Speaking of Malfoy,” said Dean, “he’s using a silver toothpick at the table, stupid prat.”

“Speaking of silver things,” said Harry, “here comes Nearly-Headless Nick.”

“I would prefer,” said Nick, hovering over the table so that his ghostly silver spurs trailed through the mashed potatoes, “that you call me Sir. Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington, but never mind that now, I’ve come to say that I’ve resolved your difficulty.”

“Resolved it?” repeated Harry. “How?”

“Well, there seemed to be a niggling little difficulty in stealing homework, it’s quite unethical, you see,” said Nick. “So, I did the logical thing and convinced the Bloody Baron to convince Hooch to cancel the assignment.”

“How’d you convince the Bloody Baron?” asked Ron, eagerly.

“Logic,” said Nick simply. “He knew his House would never complete such work and he always does what’s best for his House.”

“But – but how did the Baron convince Madam Hooch?” demanded Ron. “How does he have any influence at all?”

“I never asked,” said Nick delicately, “but I suppose it might have something to do with the fact that he’s rather … dashing.”

Dean grinned. “Brawns over brains!” he shouted. “Works every time!”